‘Hi Kat. I came to see you.’ Lame. So lame.

‘But you decided you’d rather look at my front door instead?’

‘I … wasn’t sure you’d be happy about me being here. Things haven’t been great between us. Obviously.’

‘So why did you come?’ She opens the door a 43 bit wider, and her frown softens a bit. It’s like she’s trying to stay mad at me, but her anger is weakening. I sense this is an important moment. If I get it wrong, she’ll never talk to me again, but if I get it right, I’ll have my friend back. I decide the best play is to be honest.

‘Something’s wrong, Kat,’ I say. ‘In this town, and with my mum. I was hoping you’d help me to find out what. It would mean a lot.’

I’m dying of cringe, so I look at my trainers which, I realise, are busy scuffing up Kat’s mum’s paving stone with a sharp-edged pebble. I’m swearily cursing at myself in my head and kicking the pebble away, so I don’t notice Kat moving towards me. I feel it before I see it – a rush of warmth, and Kat’s arms around me, hugging me like she hasn’t since the summer. I feel my whole body relax with relief, and I hug her back, breathing in the smell of her, which is like Christmas cookies fresh out of the oven.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she says into the side of my head. (She’s a few centimetres taller than me.)

‘Yeah, I’ve missed you, too,’ I say, hoping desperately that I don’t start crying. ‘I’m so glad you don’t hate me.’ 44

She steps back and looks at me, her breath coming out in fluffs of white steam, like perfect, magical clouds. ‘I could never hate you, Lance. How could you think that?’

‘Er, because you said, “I hate you, Lance Sparshott. Never talk to me again.”’

She giggles. ‘Oh yeah. Sorry – I was really upset. I didn’t mean it. Well, I did at the time, but I got over it after a few weeks.’

‘Why didn’t you say?’ The thought of us not talking when we could have been talking is almost worse than the thought of us not talking because she hated me.

‘I thought you hated me because I’d been so horrid. And none of it was your fault – it was between me and Ade.’

‘Everyone gets mad, and does things they wish they could take back, Kat. I know that better than anyone. There’s literally nothing you could do that would make me hate you.’

She makes a face like she’s trying not to cry. It’s cute – like a piglet with an itchy nose or something. ‘Same,’ she says.

‘So we’re cool, then?’

‘Always.’